


Your Stop?

by orphan_account



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 06:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3968071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ross didn’t usually catch himself looking twice at fellow subway passengers, or really much of anyone these days.  But something about this particular man caught his attention: the shitty attempt at facial hair gracing his cheeks, the fact that his head was bobbing irregularly in his attempt to stay awake, or maybe the fact that he was actually really quite cute, wrapped up in a black leather jacket that looked just a shade too cool for him.<br/>~IRL Tross AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Stop?

The subway was muted at this hour. Later than the regular end-of-workday rush hour, Ross usually found himself sharing a car with only one or two other passengers, drowsy and quiet after a full day’s work.

Today, though, it was a bit more crowded than usual, and Ross’d been forced to choose a spot next to someone already seated.

Ross didn’t usually catch himself looking twice at fellow subway passengers, or really much of anyone these days. But something about this particular man caught his attention: the shitty attempt at facial hair gracing his cheeks, the fact that his head was bobbing irregularly in his attempt to stay awake, or maybe the fact that he was actually really quite cute, wrapped up in a black leather jacket that looked just a shade too cool for him.

The stranger seemed oblivious to his interest, though. Ross could hardly blame him. His eyes were lined and dark with lack of sleep, and he seemed unable to sit up straight.

Poor man. Ross was tired, sure, but he could hardly imagine being that tired. And on a Tuesday evening, no less.

Ross kept an eye on him with his peripherals, barely paying attention to the mobile game he was supposedly playing. The man’s head kept bobbing erratically up and down, and his eyes, when they were open, were unfocused.

Then, without warning, the man’s head fell onto Ross’ shoulder, where it lay heavily, lolling a bit awkwardly on his neck (which was surely bent at an uncomfortable angle).

Um.

Ross considered waking the man, but then, would he even be able to stay awake anyway? He might as well let him sleep, it was -- he was --

Really cute.

Ross craned his head to look at the man’s face. His eyes were firmly shut, long lashes fanning against his pale cheeks. Too pale, really. And his cheekbone stuck out a bit too much; face far too angular to be just hereditary.

He could use some TLC, to be quite honest.

The leather jacket squeaked quietly as the man shifted in sleep, and Ross eyed it. Real leather? Seems so. What kind of scruffy underfed office worker runs around in a jacket that probably costs 250 quid? And then falls asleep in public while wearing it? Did he have any self-preservation instinct at all?

Based on the evidence, that was a resounding no.

The voice broke out over the intercom: his stop was next.

Damn it; he was just starting to kind of enjoy himself. Unusual sensation for commute. He felt the tug as the subway began to slow down, the rhythmic clanks spreading out. And finally, with a jerk, the subway pulled to a stop.

Ross reached out, gently tapping the other man on his shoulder. He shot upright almost instantly, staring at Ross with wild eyes.

Ross cleared his throat. “Sorry, mate, it’s, uh, it’s my stop.”

The man blinked twice, clearing the sleep from his eyes, before blushing bright pink. “Oh, shit, sorry, mate. Didn’t mean to-”

Ross waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, we’ve all been there.” He reached down to pick up his briefcase, fussing with the handle. He wanted to delay this, if only for a little bit. “Uh, have a nice evening, then,” he said, rising to his feet.

“Wait!”

Startled, Ross looked down at the other man, only to see him holding up his mobile. “Is this yours?”

“Yeah,” Ross said, ignoring the disappointment begging to seep through. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” the man said, and Ross turned to make his way off the subway.

He’d taken all but two steps away when he heard a knocking sound on the glass behind him. He turned to see the man, smiling at him and mouthing the words “Call me”.

Ross frowned and looked down at his phone. Unlocked the screen.

It was open to the new contact page. Chris Trott, the name read, and below, there was a chain of digits: a mobile number. Ross looked back up to catch the other man’s eyes, a questioning look on his face.

The man merely shrugged, and mouthed, “so?”

Ross grinned. He held up his mobile in one hand and flipped the man off with the other. The man - Chris - grinned back, and blew a kiss to him through the subway window.

Then, with a rumble, the subway shut its doors and sped off into the night.


End file.
